


Clover's Cram Session

by FantasyEX



Series: Clover's Death [1]
Category: Totally Spies
Genre: Brain Damage, Brain Drain - Freeform, Character Death, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Fear of Death, Forced Orgasm, Intelligence Drain, Mind Drain, Orgasm, Other, Snuff, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyEX/pseuds/FantasyEX
Summary: Clover has a big test coming up, and she knows there's no way she'll pass...Unless she uses the Brain Busters machine to give herself an unfair advantage!What could go wrong?
Series: Clover's Death [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640887
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Clover's Cram Session

Clover had never been a particularly dedicated student, and her grades certainly reflected that fact. A few low B’s in throwaway elective classes was usually the best she ever got, and she was perfectly fine with that; she had learned a long time ago to embrace the “airhead blonde” stereotype before anyone got to use it against her. Toward the end of her senior year of high school, though, something downright bizarre happened; Clover started to study in earnest. She had gotten a bit worried now that the ever-approaching deadline for college applications had become so _real._ She still had time to apply, of course, but as it stood, her grades at the moment wouldn’t get her anywhere too quickly. An offhand remark by Sam had been enough to set Clover off, as it turned out, and as soon as she could, she buried her nose in her books and got to work on improving her academic standing.  
  
…  
  
“This is _SO_ not cool!”  
  
Clover stopped thumbing through her history book – one of many textbooks scattered haphazardly around her desk – and ran her hands through her short, frazzled blonde hair. She had _thought_ that taking the weekend off to study would have netted her an easy A on Monday’s test, but now that it was Sunday evening, her genuine lack of progress was beginning to get to her. Dark bags were forming under her tired, blue eyes, and her skin had begun to lose its healthy glow. She stretched, yawned, rubbed her eyes, and dropped her head, letting her cheek come to rest on her open book with a _thump._  
  
“I’m never gonna pass,” Clover grumbled. “ _UGH!_ Sam makes it look so easy!”  
  
She pushed herself up, frustrated and grumpy, crossed her arms, and paced her room. She checked the time and, realizing she had about twelve hours – give or take – until an exam which she very realistically was going to fail, started to panic. She paced in frantic circles, pulling her hair and chewing her nails, occasionally giving her open textbook a nervous glance. It may as well have been written upside-down in another language by a left-handed blind man. Clover simply _couldn’t_ keep the information straight in her head; no matter what she tried, she always found herself getting too distracted or having too much trouble retaining the information to study in any real capacity.  
  
_If only I could just…_  
  
Clover stopped in her tracks, clapping her hands together.  
  
“That’s it!” she squealed, her eyes lighting up with delight.  
  
…  
  
Clover never thought she would actually want to _thank_ Jerry for installing a few hidden entrances to WOOHP’s headquarters in her house – she _did_ remind herself on the way to ask him how he had gotten one into her closet, though. Now, dressed in her skintight, red suit, she silently made her way through the mostly-deserted facility. She crept along for just a few minutes, thankful that her route was deserted, and before long, she reached her goal.  
  
In all likelihood, WOOHP was probably in possession of enough confiscated experimental weapons and technology to rival a small country or two. The vaults beneath downtown Los Angeles housed much of the North American branch’s contraband, from lasers to killer salon chairs and every bizarre machine in between. Clover wasn’t after weapons, though, and as she stealthily abused every security protocol she’d been entrusted with, she finally stepped through the door of the cell holding her goal: a device confiscated from the set of the game show “Brain Busters.”  
  
“Bingo,” Clover whispered, gingerly sliding the door shut behind her.  
  
The device itself was strange to look at; a tall, red booth with a curvy exterior casing, a chair on the inside, and a small podium dotted with colorful buttons in front. Its function was fittingly strange; with the proper inputs, it could drain and store its occupant’s knowledge, or it could upload that knowledge directly into its occupant’s brain. Clover, of course, planned to use it to give her an edge on tomorrow’s test. It wasn’t cheating – not technically, at least – she told herself, since she would only be using her own knowledge on the test. She could barely keep herself from rubbing her hands together with glee as she circled the machine, giving its features a quick look, eager to get started.  
  
“Okay, let’s see,” Clover muttered, giddy at the thought of bumping up her brainpower overnight. “This must be… right, right… and that one probably does… something… _Mm-hmmm…_ Then I guess this… _thing…_ is what gives me… _Okay!_ I _totally_ get it now!”  
  
Clover squeezed into the booth and sat down in the chair. She cracked her knuckles and, grinning, hovered her fingers over the panel of buttons in front of her. None of them were labeled, but she was fairly sure she knew how to operate the device after her cursory inspection. A big, green button was situated fairly close to the center, and that was the one Clover knew would give her what she needed, so, without further hesitation, she pressed it. Almost immediately, a pair of red straps emerged from behind Clover, crossed over her chest, and _clicked_ into place, forming a secure harness. She wiggled in her seat, surprised at but not concerned by how tightly she was held in place.  
  
“I guess Jerry didn’t mess around with this thing yet,” Clover remarked, moving to the next button. “Okay, then… Next is… _you!”_  
  
She pushed a red button toward the edge of the panel, and was immediately rewarded with a soft _whir_ from the inside of the booth. She could hear some sort of machinery moving around above her, and, with a wide grin on her face, she prepared for the burst of knowledge she was about to get.  
  
“Sam is going to be _so_ jealous!” Clover giggled, squirming excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to see her face tomorrow when I ace that test!”  
  
A soft, constant _hum_ began to sound as the interior of the booth was bathed in a gentle, pinkish-red light. Clover couldn’t help but laugh a bit as a strange, ticklish sensation came down on her head. It felt like she was rolling in a field of warm feathers, and the experience was surprisingly pleasant to her. She closed her eyes, held on the booth’s armrests, and let it do its job.  
  
“Come on, come on, come _on,”_ Clover squeaked, a bit impatient. “Let’s _go,_ brain chair! Make me smarter!”  
  
The sensation continued, gradually becoming more and more subtle as seconds ticked by. Clover’s head still tickled as the machine _hummed,_ but now that ticklish feeling was joined by something she hadn’t noticed at first. She felt strangely lightheaded – not enough to really worry her, but enough to make her notice that something out of the ordinary was happening. She slowly opened one eye and reached for the control panel.  
  
“Maybe I should, like, slow it down a little,” she mumbled, pushing one of a pair of purple buttons.  
  
Clover yelped as two more straps shot out from behind her and wrapped themselves around her wrists, roughly yanking them back and pinning her hands to the armrests. The machine’s _hum_ turned to a _buzz,_ which grew in intensity with each passing moment. Clover groaned, straining against her restraints as her heart began to hammer away in her chest.  
  
_Something’s wrong,_ she realized. _Something’s wrong. I can’t move… Why can’t I move?_  
  
She grunted, exerting all the force she could muster in an attempt to break her bindings. It was obviously no use – there was no way she could hope to break free, at least not until the machine was finished with its cycle.  
  
“Okay, Clover, calm down,” Clover shakily breathed in an attempt to reassure herself. “It just needs to do its thing, then it’ll let you go and you’ll be _way_ smart…”  
  
She nervously chewed her lip as the lightheaded sensation grew more intense. She felt strangely fuzzy now, like her head had somehow “fallen asleep.” She blinked a few times, shaking her head to try getting rid of the feeling, only for it to get worse. Now, a tingly, static-like sensation was slowly creeping down her body, running from the top of her head down her neck.  
  
“This isn’t… _Nnngh,_ what’s… going…”  
  
Clover gasped when she realized what was happening; she had pressed the wrong button, and instead of _gaining_ knowledge, she was losing it. She desperately hoped that wasn’t the case, but as she thought, she realized that she couldn’t remember why she was here. She _knew_ that she had wanted to use the machine to get smarter, but she couldn’t remember _why_ she had wanted to get smarter in the first place.  
  
“No, no, nonono!” Clover gasped, desperately straining against the straps and kicking her feet. “SOMEOME! HELP! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!”  
  
Clover was beginning to regret sneaking into WOOHP on a Sunday night; with most of the agents gone, the chances of someone stumbling across her behind a closed vault door in the lower levels was slim to none. She started to hyperventilate, gasping for air as she tried her best to focus through the incessant _buzz_ and _hum_ of the machine and the tingly, creeping static swarming through her head. She groaned and whined, kicking and pushing and pulling as hard as she could as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She fought and fought, but before long, she was so winded she could hardly move.  
  
“ _Nnnngghh…_ someone…”  
  
Clover’s pleas for help were little more than breathless gasps now. She still had the sense to save her strength until she _really_ needed it, at least, despite the fact that the day of the week and her exact location had slipped her mind. She knew she was getting dumber by the second – she _knew_ that much, and it crushed her to know that all her knowledge was slowly being drained from her. Clover’s gasps turned to sobs before long, and hot tears rolled down her cheeks as the grim reality of her situation truly sank in.  
  
“ _Please,”_ Clover whimpered. “I… don’t… _Nnnuuhhh…”_  
  
She shivered as the static swirled more intensely in her head. As the machine sucked her brains, she forgot more and more as time went on. She forgot the name of her high school after a minute or so, followed quickly by her address and phone number. She bit her lip, spasming and awkwardly kicking out her legs as she felt a sudden surge of intelligence drained from her, pulled right out of her brain and into the game booth’s storage.  
  
Clover’s eyes crossed, and her lips parted. A little trickle of drool ran out of her mouth and down her chin as her struggles slowed and slowed before, finally, she seemed to become complacent. Her fearful expression was wiped away, replaced with a dumb, blissful smile which slowly stretched across her features.  
  
“Wh- _Whuuuhhh…_ Why… feel… so…”  
  
Somewhere, deep in her mind, Clover knew she shouldn’t be here. She knew that _something_ wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on _what_ that something was. She felt ticklish all over now, but especially so in her stomach and between her legs. Her cheeks turned red from the shame she was still intelligent enough to feel at becoming aroused from such a situation.  
  
“ _Ahhhh…_ F-Feels…”  
  
Clover bit her lip as she reflexively rolled her hips. Her nipples had begun to stiffen, straining against her skintight suit, and a little wet spot was growing between her legs. Her slit became plainly outlined as the tight, rubber-spandex-like material rode up between her thighs. Pleasure built within her, brought on by her ever-decreasing level of intelligence. For every second her brain’s control melted away, her body’s impulses grew stronger. Now, she was too stupid to fight those urges, and, babbling dumbly, she gyrated her hips, desperately trying to scratch the itch her mounting arousal had planted in her core.  
  
“ _Nnaahh! Mmmmfff!_ C-Can’t rub!” Clover whined, drops of drool falling from her chin onto her bust. “Wanna feel good!”  
  
She bucked her hips, thrusting into the air in an attempt to give herself some sort of pleasure, but it was no use. Still, she could feel the pleasant, tingly heat between her legs gradually building, so she didn’t complain too much. Her arousal continued to leak out of her quivering pussy, causing the wet spot in her crotch to grow.  
  
“Feews _gooood! Aaahhhh…”_  
  
Clover’s cheeks were burning red now, but any shame she had felt just a few minutes earlier had left her as the machine she had stuck herself in pushed her further and further past the point of retardation and toward something dangerously close to brain-dead. She was cross-eyed and drooling, letting her tongue flop out of her mouth simply because she couldn’t figure out how to keep it in properly. Spit dribbled from her chin, and lines of runny mascara were dripping down her cheeks as tears continued to stream from her eyes. She was thrusting her hips desperately now, so close to release and completely unable to comprehend just _why_ she felt so _good._  
  
“ _NNNUUHHH!!! G-Good!”_ Clover babbled, her words garbled by a mouthful of drool and her flopping tongue. “ _SSSHHHOOOOGOOD! HOT! P-PUSSY FEELS HOT!”_  
  
The heat in Clover’s core was reaching its boiling point now. She grunted and moaned stupid strings of meaningless words as her climax rapidly approached and the last vital bits of her brain were beginning to be sucked out of her dumb, empty head. She bucked her hips one last time, her crossed eyes rolling back as her orgasm hit her.  
  
“ _GGGUUUOOOHHHH!!! CUMMMMM!!! C-C-CUUHHHGGHHH!!!”_  
  
Clover gagged on her own spit as she squealed in ecstasy. She felt an electrifying rush shoot down her spine over and over again, sending her into a fit of spasms. Her legs quivered as hot, wet spurts of girlcum sprayed through the fabric of her suit. She squirted hard, grunting and gurgling with each thrust of her hips as her eyelids fluttered and her mind went totally blank. She kept shivering, twitching with each contraction of her pussy as she soaked through the crotch of her suit.  
  
“ _G-Guuuhhh… G-Goooddd… feels… good…”_  
  
Clover moaned her last words with a look of pure bliss on her face. She let out a wordless, ecstatic moan, writhing in her afterglow as arousal overtook her completely and her brain broke. She couldn’t speak as she sat there, useless and twitching, while the very last of her brain was being sucked out.  
  
Clover could only grunt and moan as a spasm ran down her spine and she bucked her hips one last time. A steady stream of urine trickled out from between her legs, pooling on the chair and running down onto the floor, where it spread around her feet. Little wisps of steam rose from between Clover’s thighs as she peed herself, her head slumping forward and a strand of drool slowly stretching down from her hanging tongue. She sat there in a puddle of her own piss, still strapped firmly in place as the machine finished sucking and scrambling her brains. Her eyes glazed over and she let out a soft sigh, exhaling one last time before going limp.  
  
The straps holding Clover’s body in place retracted, and she fell unceremoniously onto the floor. She landed face-first in the yellowish puddle of urine she’d just produced, and her tongue flopped into the liquid, resting limp on the floor in perhaps the most embarrassing manner possible. Her rear stuck up in the air shamelessly – not that a dead body could feel any shame to begin with. The crotch of her suit was wet with cum and piss, noticeably darker-red than the rest of her outfit.  
  
Clover was eventually discovered – and robbed, post-mortem, of her virginity – by a WOOHP agent during a routine patrol. After the scene had been cleaned up and friends and family had been notified, it was generally agreed upon – in hushed tones, of course – among the agents of WOOHP that clover had _definitely_ not been a very bright girl.


End file.
